Goodbye, Brother
by Selena Estella
Summary: Ilforte's final moments as I like to picture them-with his brother. Includes character death and general sadness. Not for those who dislike tragedy. Please read, and I hope you mourned over these characters' deaths as much as I did. Twoshot. NOT slash.
1. Szayel's POV

Ok. Well, this is my first time doing a Bleach fanfic involving Szayel and Ilforte, and I am aware that both of them are rather OOC... but they have their reasons! I've also had a bit of difficulty with Bleach terms, and I'm too lazy to look up most of them, so please try to ignore them...

Interestingly enough, I listed to _Exile Vilify_ by _The National_ while I wrote this, which has nothing to do with Bleach, and found that it creates quite a good atmosphere for this story. I recommend you listen to it while you read this fic.

Oh, and about Ilforte's name: I chose the spelling I like the most, and I am aware that there are others and that the one I've used may not be officially correct.

Warnings: involves blood, one swearword and character death.

Pairings: none unless you're absolutely determined to see SzayelxIlforte, but I meant for it to be brotherly love.

Now, read on...

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><p>Szayelaporro Grantz was frozen in his seat, staring intently at the monitor before him. His fingers were frozen a few centimeters above the key board as he watched the screen with a mixture of fascination and horror.<p>

The screen was a whirl of information the detailed everything from the bankai-user's strength and reiatsu levels to the shape, abilities and even the way it arrived to spiritual compression from his reiatsu. All Szayel was really focused on, however, were the images showing the battle and the small numbers at the bottom of the screen that detailed his brother's condition.

His brother was dying.

As soon as the realization hit him, Szayel flew into action. His fingers danced across the key board, filling the previously silent laboratory with the non-stop tapping of keys. At the same time he quickly went over coordinates and calculations in his head, working at a speed that no ordinary man, human, shinigami or arrancar could ever hope to keep up with.

He hadn't tested this, and it was really just a theory, but it could be the only way…

Szayel hesitated for just a fraction of a second, his index finger hovering above the enter key. It might fail. His brother's body might dissolve into reishi particles and never arrive there. Or worse, it might slit in half and end up with one half in the human world and one half in the lab…

But he had to try.

He pressed enter.

A crack and a flash came from someway behind him, and Szayel was halfway across the room before he even noticed that he was out of his seat.

Szayel crouched down next to his brother's body—the man he had always claimed to hate but cared about deeply somewhere within. The across-dimension teleportation appeared to have worked perfectly, and Szayel felt a tiny bit of pride before he remembered _why_ he had had to use it in the first place.

He quickly scanned his brother's broken body with his eyes and felt a wave of some unfamiliar emotion crash down over him like a tsunami. The injuries Ilforte had received was obviously fatal, and though he was still breathing faintly, Ilforte was hanging on by just a thread. Blood was already pooling around him, staining his uniform pink and soaking into his hair. Was the emotion Szayel felt… despair…?

'Ilforte?' he murmured softly, not daring to touch his brother in case of hurting him further. That and he was also somewhat afraid to—afraid to break the barriers they had made between each other. 'Ilforte?' Ilforte's eyelids fluttered minutely, and his face slowly creased into a grimace of pain. 'Ilforte?' Szayel said again, slightly louder.

'Szayel?' Ilforte slowly opened his eyes. They took a few seconds to focus, but when they did, Ilforte smiled weakly through the pain. 'Hey, bro.' He took a shallow breath that rasped horribly in his throat. 'What… what happened...?' Ilforte coughed weakly twice. A few specs of blood flew from his mouth and joined the many crimson patches on his uniform.

'I transported you here after you were… defeated.' Szayel replied, forcing out the truth. He knew that he could fill both of their minds with petty lies—Ilforte was probably disorientated enough to believe anything at the moment—but he was also dying and Szayel didn't think he'd be able to stand it if the last thing he said to his brother was a lie.

Realization dawned in his brother's eyes and his smile dropped. 'Shit,' he muttered, 'I actually… lost.' His smiled ruefully and closed his eyes. 'Well that sucks.' There was a moment's silence, filled only with Ilforte's wet, raspy breathing.

'Why?' he breathed, his frown deepening. 'Why did you… bring me back?' He forced his eyes open, now scowling, the hatred that lay between them remembered.

'I needed to talk to you,' Szayel whispered in reply. He swallowed down the lump in his throat that had formed over the past few minutes. Or was it hours? Time had stretched into an immeasurable form that made seconds feel like days. But the one thing he did know was that there wasn't much of that strange time left. The thread that held his brother to that world was weakening, and though Szayel loathed this feeling of helplessness more than he had ever loathed anything before, he was a scientist who knew when nothing could be done.

'You're crying,' Ilforte said softly, the malice on his face replaced by innocent surprise.

'Huh?' Szayel put a gloved hand to his cheek and stared at the moisture that had appeared on the fabric.

When he looked back at his brother, his tiresome, stupid, _dying_ brother whom he loved… Szayel found himself completely lost for words. Ilforte looked so sad—that was the only word to describe it. No other emotion, just… sad. Why? Sad that he had made his brother—his cold, pompous, _evil_ brother—cry?

'I'm not gonna make it… am I?' It wasn't really a question—they both knew it now. Szayel shook his head slightly in reply and bit his lip.

'I don't want you to go,' he whispered, 'I don't want to live without my brother.' He bowed his head as he made the confession in an attempt to hide the tears still pouring from his eyes. Later on, he knew that he would feel disgusted at himself for admitting his weakness, for sounding just like a little boy who was dependent on an older sibling... but the truth was that at the time, that was exactly how he _did_ feel, and the truth was that part of him was terrified of being left alone in that cruel world.

Slowly, and as if it cost him an incredible amount of energy, Ilforte shakily raised his hand, fingers reaching upwards. Szayel took it quickly, grasping it with both of his own, ignoring the pink stains it left on his gloves or the fact that he was now crouching in a pool of blood.

'I'm sorry,' he choked, pressing his brother's hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. 'I'm sorry... I don't hate you. I never hated you. It's the truth. I never really... I'm sorry.' There was no reply. Szayel looked up quickly. Ilforte wasn't moving.

Wasn't breathing.

'No…' Szayel released his brother's hand, and it flopped onto the floor. '_No!_' Szayel grabbed Ilforte's shoulders, not even sure himself what he was going to do, but he froze once he saw his brother's face.

Ilforte's eyes were open, but glazed over and unseeing. His lips, however, were still pulled in to the ghost of a last, peaceful smile.

Something inside Szayel broke. With a wail of despair he collapsed onto the cooling body, hugging it to him, his white uniform staining red with his brother's cold blood. His whole body shook as sobs forced themselves from his throat, echoing around the otherwise silent room along with an ever-repeating cry: '_I'm sorry!_' he screamed, '_I'm sorry, Ilforte!_ _I'm sorry!_' until even those words became nothing but broken sobs.

Szayel didn't know how long he lay there, lost in the pain of losing his brother, but eventually the tears ceased as something resembling rationality remade its claim on his tortured mind. Still trembling, Szayel sat up and wiped his face of those ridiculous tears. Then, shakily, he reached out a hand and close his brother's eyes, and then for the first time took in the state of his appearance. To his mild disgust he discovered that blood had also made its way into his hair. He would also have to get his Fraccion to clear away the blood all over the floor…

With a shaky in-breath he carefully scooped up his brother's body. Since most of his research involved the dissection of spiritual beings (dead or otherwise) he had designed special reishei compressors that meant that the subject's spiritual body did not merely disintegrate after death. And for perhaps the first time, Szayel felt truly glad for it. He would put Ilforte someplace where he would be safe, because Szayel knew that he simply could not let go... or at least not yet, anyway.

Nobody could know of any of this, though. His own Fraccion wouldn't dare mention it to him or anyone else, so he was safe for now. But in Las Noches, any sign of weakness was immediately pounced upon and used, and since everyone had been under the impression that he had hated his brother, well… he couldn't afford to let them think otherwise.

But still…

His eyes flickered over to the screen that still showed details of Ilforte's battle and his lips curved into a grin of bitter malice.

…he was going to enjoy getting his revenge.


	2. Ilforte's POV

A second 'chapter', from Ilforte's POV. He IS a little OOC here, I think, but we don't actually know much about him so I think it's ok.

Again, I recommend you put _Exile Vilify_ by _The National_ on a loop while you read this, because although it has nothing to do with Bleach, I think it creates a good atmosphere for this fic and I listened to it while I wrote it.

I'll put this here so it doesn't mess with the story's flow at the end: PLEASE R&R! I can find out how many people have read it and it really irks me when 28 people have and only ONE bothered to say anything about it... even if this fic was posted months ago, please still tell me what you think about it!

Warnings: Same as last chapter, but one more swearword.

Pairings: None. This is NOT a slash. They love each other as BROTHERS.

Read on...

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><p>Ilforte was falling. Down, down, down, into the black. He had lost. Actually <em>lost<em>. The Shinigami had played some sort of trick and, _just_ as he'd been about to finish it, been blasted to bits by a wave of power. _Shit_.

His right hand clenched around nothing but air, and yet his was certainly in his normal Arrancar form… but of course—the shinigami had blasted away his resurrection, and therefore, his sword. But it was more than that—a part of him had been destroyed as well, and Ilforte doubted that it would ever heal. Could an Arrancar survive without their Zanpakuto?

Most likely not.

His body was covered with gashes and burns, but Ilforte couldn't really feel them anymore. The time to fall stretched into much, much longer as a roaring sound, like a huge tidal wave bearing down upon him, sounded in his ears and grew louder and louder. His vision blurred and became nothing but star-spotted black.

This was it, then. _Not_ the way he had planned on finishing that night. Would he go to Soul Society? Huh. How ironic of he did. But the final blow had not been dealt by a Zanpakuto's blade… so would his soul merely crumble away into reishi particles? What would happen then? What could _not existing_ ever possibly be like?

The thought struck a kind of fear into him that he had never known before.

Then a rush of white, churning into a tunnel with one black spot at the end of it. Oh Hell, this must be it. He was on the edge, about to die. _About_ to _die_. The thought filled his mind in a torturous jumble of words_…_

The white rushed past to be replaced by a crushing blackness and then—

—and then something slammed into his back and the back of his head so hard that white bursts of light swirled before his eyes and he finally, _finally_ lost consciousness.

…

…

…

Ilforte slowly regained consciousness.

He could hear… _something_. Something in the never-ending darkness. Like a voice. A voice was calling to him from… from somewhere beyond the dark.

'_Ilforte?_' He heard it that time. _Ilforte_. They were saying his name, and… oh, _God_, he _hurt_. It was pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a pain that burrowed into his flesh and gnawed at his bones. He didn't think he could stand it, but somehow he managed not to cry out. Or maybe he just _couldn't_ cry out—the _effort_ it took just to keep his lungs working was enough to rob him of any other movement.

'Ilforte?' The voice was clear, now. Right next to him. He recognized it. 'Szayel?'

With a great effort, Ilforte forced his eyes open. Very slowly, everything came into focus. Pink hair. Amber eyes. White glasses. It _was_ Szayel—his brother. _His brother_. He forced a feeble smile. 'Hey, bro,' he said, voice pitifully weak. He took a breath that scraped in his throat and lungs. Why did it do that? There was a reason, he just couldn't quite remember… he felt confused. Disorientated.

'What… what happened…?' Something seemed to catch in his throat slightly and he coughed weakly.

'I transported you here after you were… defeated,' his brother replied, some indefinable emotion in his eyes. Ilforte thought about what he'd just said… _'defeated?'_ what did he… _oh_…

'Shit… I actually… lost…' What a blow to his pride. Would Grimmjow accept him as his Fraccion now? And what about the others? No, they would never tolerate his presence in their ranks, not now. Not now that he'd lost to a lowly Shinigami.

'Well that sucks,' he muttered, mostly to himself, as he allowed his eyelids to slip closed again. He felt so, so tired…

Then a thought struck him. _Why_ was he here right now? He _hated_ his brother and his brother hated him. What on earth had possessed him to bring him back?

'Why? Why did you… bring me back?' Sure that Szayel must be up to something, Ilforte opened his eyes again. It was harder than last time but he managed it. He didn't want Szayel near him anymore. He hated him. What was he—?

'I needed to talk to you,' Szayel said. It sounded as though he was forcing the words out, though not because of disgust. Ilforte was confused. Normally, if Ilforte had been injured and unable to move, Szayel would be grinning maliciously to himself and preparing some sort of experiment to use of his brother, but now…

For a moment, all thought stopped dead. Though his vision was steadily becoming more and more blurred, he could still see Szayel's face pretty clearly.

Szayel was _crying_.

Not like a balling baby, angry or upset, but genuine tears of grief that trickled from his eyes in two small streams, running down his cheeks to drip off his chin. Ilforte was so surprised that for a moment he didn't say anything. But then it struck him that maybe even Szayel himself didn't know.

'You're crying,' he said, voice soft. Szayel looked surprised. He _hadn't_ known. Then, as he touched a gloved hand to his face and saw the dampness on his fingers, Ilforte realized something else: Szayel didn't hate him.

He _loved_ him.

A strange ache began in Ilforte's chest—all this time, for as long as they'd known each other, they had also hated each other, and now…

'I'm not gonna make it… am I?' He didn't really need to ask—Ilforte could feel it now, could feel it as his life-blood drained away, as one by one his organs failed. Szayel knew it too. And the reason he hadn't done anything yet was because he _couldn't_ do anything.

He watched as Szayel shook his head and bit his lip. Tears flowed even faster from his eyes as he said the next words;

'I don't want you to go,' he whispered, and Ilforte knew it was the truth, 'I don't want to live without my brother.' He bowed his head, obviously ashamed. Ilforte wanted to say something, anything, to comfort his brother, but his lungs didn't seem to have enough air in them to make words with. Everything was fading away, even the pain…

_Now_ he was dying.

His arms felt as though is was being weighed down by lead, but he managed to raise one, his right, the one closest to his brother. He stretched his fingers out. '_Take it,_' he thought, '_take my hand, I'm about to die…'_ He felt relieved when Szayel grasped his hand, although he couldn't really feel it anymore… he could see it, though, just before his vision faded completely and he was left not in dark but light… beautiful _light_…

'_I don't hate you, and I'm sorry you thought I did,'_ he said, but he knew the voice was just in his head. It didn't matter much, though—he thought his brother had got the message anyway… or he hoped he had.

Szayel was saying something—apologizing, maybe, if he could guess by the tone. Ilforte didn't know, but he could tell that his brother didn't hate him anymore and that…

…and that made him happy.


End file.
